


Say Something

by biqueuerious



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Fake AH Crew
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-26
Updated: 2017-09-26
Packaged: 2019-01-01 00:16:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12144333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/biqueuerious/pseuds/biqueuerious
Summary: inspired by a post made by vagabuddy on tumblr





	Say Something

It's Me

"Why couldn't you have said something?"

Crisp red leaves swirl at Jeremy's feet. He pulls the biker jacket closer. Not because he's cold. It's just his way of pretending...

"Anything," he whispers.

For a beat he's distracted by the sobs of a woman just a few rows down. He glances towards her, and god, that grave looks way too small. With a heavy sigh he turns to walk away, pulling a cigar from the biker jacket. The lighter singes his calloused fingers as he shields from the winds.

"I'm so tired of saying sorry..."  
-  
"Then don't."

Jeremy's silent as he begins to drown, amber liquid searing his throat as he knocks back his sixth. He raises his hand to ask for another. A man to his right taps his wrists before the bartender sees.

"You didn't have to leave, Jeremy. We'll all come around to understanding what happened."

"It doesn't matter if you do or don't. I can't... I'll never understand."

The man's silent for a beat. "It was a mistake-,"

"We're too good for mistakes!" Jeremy raises his voice. A few people turn their heads to stare. The man sinks into the barstool and this time doesn't stop Jeremy from ordering another shot. "The crew is too good for mistakes. The Fake AH doesn't need me to stick around to keep making them. That's why I left."

The conversation falls silent again. Jeremy rests his chin on his folded hands and closes his eyes. Memories of that night keep coming back, and he knows drinking won't help them fade. Still he orders another, and another, and another...

"Sir, I'm afraid I'm going to have to cut you off."

"Whaddya mean?" Jeremy slurs, barely managing to stay balanced on the bar stool. "I'm a paying customer! You stop when I want you to st-,"

"I'm sorry about him," the man to his right says, placing a firm hand on Jeremy's shoulder. "I'll take him outside."

"Yeah? And who's tab is this on? Short stack here didn't leave a card," the bartender sneers.

The man glares down at Jeremy. "I've got it," he says, handing over his card. "Jack's going to kill me when she sees all those drinks, Jeremy. I hope you're proud."

"Are you proud, Geoff?" Jeremy stumbles back. He squints his eyes and shakes his head before turning to leave the bar on his own.  
-  
"He is, you know that."

Jeremy doubles over the toilet seat, violently emptying the contents of his stomach. It takes all the strength he has not to fall to his knees. His body is so tired.

"Do you think we didn't know what kind of risks this line of work takes? It's not like we weren't prepared for the worst."

It doesn't take long for Jeremy to give in. A gentle arm holds his shoulders as he crashes. He feels much smaller against the woman's frame when she pulls him in. Her finger trace circles in his hair.

"It's alright, I'm here Jeremy. I'm here...," she soothes.

"Why-," Jeremy's voice cracks. "He's not. B- because of me," his breathes begin to hitch as tears roll down his face. "F- fuck! Jack why? Wh- why...?"

Jack holds him tighter, unable to offer him an answer.

"I j- just... god, I just want to see him again..."  
-  
"Then why didn't you come to the funeral?"

A pebble skips across the asphalt and falls into a nearby storm drain. Mumbled curses fill Jeremy's left ear.

"I mean... I know you're grieving. We all are," a voice to his right sighs. "You don't think you would have found some closure?"

Jeremy closes his eyes and shakes his head. "I don't think murders find closure."

"But you're not a murderer-, well... you weren't his. It- it wasn't like that-," Jeremy raises his hand to stop the conversation. They fall silent again, continuing to walk down the street.

Nice sunsets in Los Santos were hard to come by. Three shadows stretched down the street, following ever so closely behind. Mimicking their movements. Fading as clouds floated by. All was orange and golden, every street sign, every puddle. It felt so briefly warm. Only briefly...

Distant sirens causes Jeremy's company to tense, but he just keeps walking. He doesn't care. "Anyway... thanks for walking me home."

"...Alright. See you later then-,"

"Gavin!"

"Wot?"

Gavin shrinks back as he's glared at. "Why don't you come back, Jeremy? God-, it's not like we kicked you out."

"I know, Michael," Jeremy sighs, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I just can't... okay?"

"Is it-... You can move to my room instead, man. I don't mind."

Jeremy shakes his head and turns to open up the gate to the apartment complex. "Goodnight, guys."

Michael presses his lips thin. "C'mon Gavin," he huffs, turning away.

Jeremy watches his friends disappear down the street from his window. After lingering for a moment he pulls himself away, mumbling to himself, "Why couldn't you have said something?"  
-  
"I'd... thought you'd recognize me."

The voice trembled between coughs. Loud thunderous rain washed crimson pools down the alley. Jeremy's tears were invisible against his cheek.

"I'm sorry-," he choked. "I-, Fuck I didn't mean to-."

"I... know."

"N n no wait-, wait! You're going to make it, just-," Jeremy struggled to stand, holding tightly.

"I'm not-"

"You will! You can't-, goddamn it not like this!"

A weak grip on his shoulder made Jeremy stop. His breaths were jagged and labored. "Ryan-," he cried.

Ryan managed a sad smile. "Just... tell them the truth. They'll know, it wasn't your fault..."

The grip on Jeremy's shoulder slipped away. He fell to his knees as he cried out in agony.

"Why... why didn't you say something?"


End file.
